My whirlwind romance with my big red man ended a year ago today. I still don't really have words to capture him and I can't bring him back. Here's a pictorial journey of our last months together.
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| After the first vet visit. |
Cuna spent the first two weeks after the initial incident with some dear friends while his barn got worked on. It introduced me to what life without a show barn could look like for him and gave me some mental space to make better choices. I still believed he could get better and that if I did the right things, I could help him.
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| taking time to breathe |
Shortly thereafter, I took a rare me trip and realized that I needed to quit pushing the recovery and get Cuna out of the situation he was in. It was time to dial everything back and let him be a horse.
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| someone was happy |
I have rarely regretted a decision less. Cuna loved his stall, but he was always pissy and weird in a barn situation. His whole demeanor changed with this move--he played with his buddies, enjoyed his time, and almost completely gave up flipping his nose at bugs.
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| beautiful and broken |
I carefully monitored lameness levels on detailed calendars and gave him the best of everything. An early winter vet visit helped us out for a while, but I could read the writing on the wall.
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| he didn't love that garland |
We tried to live like it wasn't. I saw him nearly every day. His feed, feet, and comfort levels were carefully managed. Cuna's barn (a private situation with one other person) was a sort of haven for us. I didn't offer to share it with other people very often. That time was just for him and I.
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| courage |
January came and I knew it was time. Even through tears, I could appreciate what Cuna had brought to me in terms of the little bay horse. I posted this shot on the internet, only labeled "Courage" and I made the last appointment we'd ever need.
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| Hakuna Matata |
But I didn't have words and Ellie wrote the post that told the blog world one of their own was no more while Lindsey and I trekked through impenetrable fog.
Even now, I don't know what to say.
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| I'll see you again, red man |
Hugs. My thoughts are with you today. I miss your big red horse.
ReplyDelete:( Hugs.
ReplyDeleteLots of hugs
ReplyDeleteHugs. Cuna was one of the first blog horses I knew about, and such an amazing guy.
ReplyDeleteHugs. He was one in a million. <3
ReplyDelete<3
ReplyDeleteBig hugs to you and a carrot in the sky for Cuna! X
ReplyDeleteThoughts are with you <3
ReplyDeleteHugs to you. Cuna was such a special horse.
ReplyDeletehakuna matata. what a special horse
ReplyDeleteGave me goosebumps reading the line "I made the last appointment we'd ever need", cheers to the horses that are too great for words.
ReplyDeleteHugs.
ReplyDeleteSo much ♡ to you and all those lucky enough to have crossed his path. What a truly special horse *hugs*
ReplyDeleteIt's so hard to lose them and I'm pretty sure that it hurts forever. I'm glad that you were blessed with such a wonderful horse during your lifetime. Sending hugs.
ReplyDeleteSending so, so many hugs. ♥ It's so hard to lose them and I can't believe it's already been a year. So happy he had you, and you had him.
ReplyDeleteHugs for you. Enormous gifts come with such a high price (which I say from a place of much empathy, having experienced a very painful anniversary of my own in Dec). I try my hardest to treasure a thing I was incredibly lucky to find, but it's no less hard.
ReplyDeleteFrom one of my favourite movies, a Bette Davis masterpiece called "Now, Voyager:"
'I hate goodbyes.'
'They don't matter, it's what's gone before.'
Hugs to you. My vet always tells me we can give our pets the gift of not having to suffer. Such a hard decision but the best one. He will always live on in your heart ❤
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful and special horse. Thinking of you on this difficult day.
ReplyDeleteSweet boy
ReplyDeleteHugs. He touched so many, through you. Such a special guy.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry. It's so hard letting them go.
ReplyDelete